


Frenzy

by HamburrgerBites



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anxiety, Fever, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Lullabies, M/M, Nightmares, Pining, Post-War, Short Chapters, Sick Fic, Slow Burn, a bit of song lyrics, lots of fluff, lots of pent up emotion, lots of praising, my first fic on here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 10:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14932761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamburrgerBites/pseuds/HamburrgerBites
Summary: In which Burr is a precious, insecure jellybean and Hamilton is a soft, fevered cinnamon bun.“I’m in love with an idiot.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The entire premise is Hamilton having a fever and Burr looking after him. They’re younger (20-ish) but somehow still had gone through the war and are lawyers and mobile phones exist idek. Enjoy!

Burr was looking over his next case’s papers when his phone rang.

“Are you free tonight?” Laurens’s voice rasped from the other end.

Burr cocked his eyebrow up though Laurens couldn’t see. “Finally acknowledging your desires, Laurens?”

“Not _me_ ,” Laurens hissed. The line went silent for a while and Burr had the distinct impression that Laurens was running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “It’s Alex. He’s sick and I have to go meet my damn aunt in half an hour and Lafayette and Mulligan aren’t free. Can you come over my place to look after him?”

A hundred rash questions popped into Burr’s head at once. _You call him Alex? You’re that close? Why is he at_ your _place?_

But what Burr said aloud was “How sick is he?” and as he said those words he realised he was already out of his chair and moving towards his door.

_Rash_.

“Calm down,” said Laurens, which irritated Burr since it meant he had appeared _not calm_ even over the phone. “The physician’s seen to him. It’s just a fever. But—”

Burr was fumbling for his keys. People _die_ of fever. “What? What is it?”

“He’s delirious.”

“What?”

“He’s talking in his sleep.” The way he said it made it seem like he was gazing at a sleeping Hamilton right at that second. Burr was getting more and more annoyed. “And he wakes up sometimes and panics when he sees there’s no one around.”

Burr clicked his door shut behind him, his knuckle white around the knob. Laurens didn’t need to say the word for him to understand. _Nightmares_. But whether it was about Hamilton’s experiences during childhood or war, Burr couldn’t know.

Laurens heard the thuds of Burr’s shoes on cobblestone. “You know my address?” A confirmation, not accusation.

“I’m on my way.”

Burr tucked his phone in his pocket. The winter afternoon air outside was chilly, and he cursed himself for forgetting his coat in his haste. He shook his head at himself.

_Rash_.

* * *

 Laurens dropped his house keys into Burr’s palm. “He’s all yours,” he said, and Burr could see how painful it was for him to say it. He shrugged into his coat— _not rash_ —and looked again over his shoulder at the door of the guest room where Hamilton was.

Burr had to fight off the urge to tap his foot in impatience.

Laurens rolled his eyes, sensing it. He smacked Burr’s arm in a half-hearted attempt at intimacy. “Thanks for helping me out, Burr.”

_I didn’t do it for you._ Burr bit back the retort.

“I’m off. Be back around midnight.” Laurens looked over his shoulder again, but this time he looked at Burr. His face was unreadable. Finally he shook his head like Burr had shook his. “I’m going to regret this.”

The door clicked shut and Burr and Hamilton were alone in an empty house.

_Midnight_ , thought Burr. That was plenty of time.

_For what?_ another part of him thought disapprovingly.

Burr approached the door of the guest room. He couldn’t hear any snores, but that was understandable considering Hamilton’s fitful sleep.

_Why are you here, Burr?_

Not for Laurens.

_Then for who? Hamilton or you?_

Burr gripped the doorknob. The keys to Laurens’s house were heavy in his pocket. He could find someone else to take care of Hamilton. Someone out of the bumbling four’s social circle, which meant someone reasonable and dignified. Hand over the keys. Wish them good luck. Go back to perusing over his next case’s papers and never look back.

Hamilton deserved someone better anyway.

Burr let go of the doorknob.

He turned back to the front door. Stopped. Listened.

_There_.

A whimper.

_There, again._

A sob.

_He wakes up sometimes and panics when he sees there’s no one around._

Burr threw open the door.

Hamilton was tossing between blankets, clutching at the sheets as he cried. His eyes were closed but his mouth was babbling away incoherently.

_Even in his sleep._

Burr reached the bed in five strides and knelt beside him. “ _Shhh_ ,” Burr hushed him gently, and had a wave of déjà vu. Hadn’t he done something exactly the same when he babysat his niece? When she woke up in fright over the bogeyman coming to get her?

Hamilton was crying harder, actual tears running down his pale cheeks. More out of habit than rationale, Burr reached out and rested his hand on the younger boy’s chest. “We’re okay,” Burr crooned softly. “We’re safe. We’re fine.”

Hamilton sobbed, and Burr, doing the only thing he knew what to do in situations like that, started to sing:

_Let's go in the garden_  
_You'll find something waiting_  
_Right there where you left it_  
_Lying upside down_

Hamilton’s sob hitched to a stop. Hopeful, Burr continued the song, singing as low and soothingly as he could:

_When you finally find it_  
_You'll see how it's faded_  
_The underside is lighter_  
_When you turn it around_

Hamilton’s face rested on the tear-stained pillow, turned towards Burr’s voice. He had stopped tossing. The pain and fear from his face was gone. Burr gathered his nerve to lean closer into the boy.

_Everything stays_  
_Right where you left it_  
_Everything stays_  
_But it still changes_

Burr could see the tracks left by the tears on his face. He could see the cracked lips, freckled bloody and dry. The strands of hair that had been pulled out in moments of fits.

_Ever so slightly_  
_Daily and nightly_  
_In little ways_  
_When everything stays_

Burr was close enough now to feel the boy’s hot breath. He was so close...

When their noses touched, a shot of realisation jolted through Burr’s entire body, and he jumped back like a startled cat.

In the silence that stretched, Hamilton slept on, his face almost peaceful.

Burr slumped against the wall. He buried his head in his arms.

_Why are you here, Burr?_

_For Hamilton?_

_Or for you?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s chapter one! The song inserted is Everything Stays by Rebecca Sugar ([listen here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pozDLjFUVbM)), sang by Marceline from Adventure Time. Raise your hand if that song makes you cry, too.  
> This isn’t my first fanfic, but it is the first to be published publicly, so any comments would be much appreciated.  
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Burr didn’t know what Laurens was so worked up about.

He’d brought a chair from the kitchen into the room to sit beside the bed. (The fact that he had to do it made him realise that Laurens had sat _on the bed_ with Hamilton during his watch, that bastard.) There hadn’t been another fit since the last. In the relative quiet of dusk, Burr finally had enough of staring at Hamilton (one can only go so long at looking at someone drooling in their sleep) and took out his phone to read news articles.

He’d somehow found himself in a Wikipedia page about Oscar Wilde’s imprisonment when his stomach rumbled. It was almost 8. Burr tapped his foot. Laurens didn’t mention anything about _not_ touching his food, so that was sort of permission, right?

Burr took one last glance at Hamilton before heading to the kitchen, leaving the door open just in case.

He found eggs, bread, honey and butter. (Who doesn’t love breakfast for dinner?) Then he found some instant chicken soup and vegetables for Hamilton. While the pot of water boiled, he chopped carrots, celery and garlic. He paused, then decided to dice the vegetables smaller, knowing how _he_ never felt like chewing when he had a fever.

He whipped up sunny-side ups and toast in time to have the pot coming to a boil. Burr dropped in the soup and vegetables into the pot, all the while keeping an ear on the guest room. When he was done, he put on oven gloves (he couldn’t find a tray) to carry the bowl of hot soup into the room.

Hamilton was talking in his sleep again. Burr stiffened, then eased his worry. Hamilton didn’t seem to be in pain or afraid, merely mumbling words like a child in a vivid dream. _Not nightmare_.

He was putting the bowl of soup carefully on the bedside table when he heard it.

“ _Burr_...”

Burr flinched in surprise so much some soup spilled over.

Hamilton’s eyes were closed. He was asleep— _deep_ sleep. His pouty lips were moving.

“ _Burr_...”

Burr could feel himself blushing right to his ears. He slammed the soup on the table and scrambled to obey his flight response but before he even reached the door, Hamilton’s eyes snapped open and like a deer caught in headlights Burr forgot about flight and could only think of doing his best to impersonate a statue.

_If I don’t move, he can’t see me..._

Burr wanted to smack himself.

“Burr?” Hamilton mumbled, blinking his bleary eyes.

Burr kept quiet.

_If I don’t make a sound..._

But Hamilton turned his head from him and Burr realised he’d smelled the soup. He kept still as Hamilton laid on the bed and just stared and stared at the bowl of soup.

“That’s for you.”

_So much for being a statue._

Hamilton turned back to Burr in surprise. “Wait,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I’m awake?”

_Can I say no_? Tell him this is all a dream. I’m not real. He’s not here. We’re not in an empty house all alone together at night.

What would we do if it were a dream?

_What would_ you _do, Burr?_

“You’re wearing mitts.” Hamilton had sat up, but he wobbled and fell back against the pillows.

Burr looked down at the oversized oven gloves over his hands and reddened. “I couldn’t find a tray.”

“John doesn’t have one.”

A burst of white flame broke out in Burr’s chest. Reality came crashing back to him like wildfire spreading. This wasn’t a dream. Yes, they were in an empty house, but it was _Laurens’s_ house. That was Laurens’s chicken soup on the bedside table. Laurens’s bed Hamilton was occupying. _Laurens’s_ _bed_. Suddenly the entire room seemed choked with Laurens’s imprint.

Burr met the eyes of the fevered boy on the pillows.

_Laurens’s Hamilton._

Hamilton saw what he was about to do before Burr could turn away.

“Wait—”

Burr was striding out of the room, into the hall, past the kitchen, the living room, towards the front door, frantically discarding the gloves from his hands. He fumbled to discard the keys too— _Laurens’s keys_ —and cursed profusely when he found his own instead.

Hamilton had stumbled out of the bed and saw the eggs and toast and was trying to snatch at him but Burr was faster and healthier and had reached the door but wait he forgot something—where was it—where did he put it—where did he put his damn coat?!

Hamilton grabbed his arm and clutched it like life depended on it. “Burr,” he gasped, and Burr wanted to cry.

“Laurens will be back soon, you’ll be fine alone now, go eat the soup, you don’t need me,” Burr stammered, his voice breaking at the last point.

“Shut up, Burr. Just shut up. Don’t you _ever_ stop thinking?”

Burr wanted to laugh. “This coming from _you_?”

“Why did you run from me?”

“I’m not—I didn’t—”

“Burr, I passed out in John’s house yesterday, I can recall that much. _That’s_ why I’m here.”

Burr looked away, hating how all his emotions were obvious when it came to things involving Hamilton. Everyone and their pet dogs must know how he felt about the energetic prodigy.

Even the prodigy himself.

Burr pushed Hamilton away, but Hamilton held onto his arm like a vice.

“Stop running away from me.”

“Let me go, Hamilton,” Burr said, and he was begging. Burr tried pushing again, but the boy hugged his arm like a child to their favourite toy. Burr tried shaking and yanking and shoving, maddened.

When Hamilton’s grip finally loosened, Burr felt both relieved and heartbroken.

The feeling quickly turned to alarm as Hamilton collapsed onto the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments would be much appreciated. <3  
> Chapter three is ready and will be up soon.  
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Burr paced the room as Hamilton breathed laboriously on the bed.

“Stop worrying,” he croaked.

“You’re _croaking_ , I’m worrying. We should get a doctor.”

“I’m _fine_.” The insistence would’ve been foolproof, if he hadn’t followed it up with a series of groaning. “Everything needs to stop spinning right this second,” he demanded, massaging his temples.

After he had collapsed, it took one hour for Hamilton to stop seeing black spots in his vision. Burr gave him the bowl of chicken soup and went to get his own meal from the kitchen. The food had gone cold by then but Burr couldn’t taste his breakfast-dinner anyway and Hamilton didn’t seem to mind drinking lukewarm soup with soggy chicken and crouton bits. After their meal, Hamilton’s bout of fainting was over, but his fever didn’t relent.

Burr sat on the chair. Looked at Hamilton breathing hard with his mouth. Tapped his foot. Stood up and started pacing the room again.

“Burr, sit _down_.”

Burr sat.

“No, not there. _Here_.” Hamilton reached out a groggy arm and slumped it over the space beside him on the bed.

Burr was shaking his head already. “No. No way.”

Hamilton shot a full-blown glare at him despite his condition. “Burr, the room is spinning and I am in limbo and I need a physical body to tether me to the ground before I go insane. Now get in the bed and _shut your mind up_.”

_No wonder Laurens didn’t bring a chair_ , Burr thought disobediently, but he rose and sat on the mattress, as close to the edge as he could. He looked down at Hamilton. He’d closed his eyes, taking deep breaths, but after the chicken soup, a little colour had returned to his countenance, and his lips were less parched.

“What time did John leave?” Hamilton asked, his eyes still closed, his voice soft, and Burr couldn’t help but abhor the fact that he’d said Laurens’s name softly.

Burr ran a hand over the mattress. It was cool at the places Hamilton’s body didn’t touch. “I came over a bit after three.”

“I had a dream,” Hamilton said. Paused. “I had several dreams.”

_About your parents? About the war?_

“About you.”

Burr’s hand stopped. He didn’t dare to meet the boy’s eyes. He knew the beginnings of a traitorous blush was blooming on his face.

“Did you sing me a lullaby?” Hamilton asked, his voice soft, so soft.

Burr was fully blushing now. Was it a lullaby? It was just a song that he’d heard once or twice and couldn’t forget because it had sounded so lonely. It sounded sad though it tried to promise good things.

It sounded like him.

“Sing me another?” asked Hamilton, and Burr’s breath caught when the boy took his hand and entwined their fingers.

Burr couldn’t think. Like when he had tried to comfort Hamilton’s nightmarish fit with impulse rather than rationale, Burr stared at their interlocked hands and felt his lips forming lyrics from a song he had forgotten for years only for it to resurface at that moment:

_I found you after you fell_  
_You always did mean well_  
_You made your place in our home_  
_But now I’m so alone_

Hamilton was watching his face as he sang. What did he see? His eyes were shining. Dewy. Attentive. He must see everything.

_What is this that’s happening?_  
_What is this feeling?_  
_Have I been through too much now?_  
_What will my heart allow?_

Burr felt Hamilton squeezing his hand. He was blinking, blinking, blinking back the sting in his eyes. His throat was itchy. The lyrics came out in a hoarse rasp that frightened him, but he couldn’t stop.

_Don’t you know why you’re still here?_  
_Why I keep you so near?_  
_I can’t let this be the end_  
_Can’t say goodbye again_

Hamilton was sitting up. He brought their hands onto his lap. Burr followed the movement with his eyes, head still tilted down, scared, heart hammering out of his chest. His voice was a trembling murmur now.

_So alone_  
_So afraid_  
_I'm so sorry_  
_Need to be saved_

Hamilton was so close. _So close_. Burr could feel his hot breath, and if he could, then Hamilton must feel his as well. Hamilton didn’t tilt his head up. He leaned in and down to meet Burr’s level. His feverish breaths matched Burr’s exactly.

_You can make the world brand new_  
_Make a new family too_  
_Love your friends like I love you_  
_Bring peace to me and you_

And Burr’s singing words were more truthful than his speaking words. In music, he couldn’t hide. Couldn’t lie. He bore his heart out, whole, broken, sincere, helpless, courageous.

Burr finally met Hamilton’s eyes and he saw in them everything that he felt and wanted and hoped for—and then they were kissing. And Hamilton’s lips were cracked and harsh and dazed from his fever. And Burr still couldn’t think of anything but Hamilton—Hamilton’s hand in his, Hamilton’s eager, dizzy lips, Hamilton asking him to sing to him, the forgotten song Hamilton had brought back into his memory— _Hamilton_.

_I love you, I love you, I love you_ , Burr sang in his head, in his heart, in his soul.

“I love you,” he confessed aloud, and the tears that he’d been blinking back spilled over, and the wall behind which he’d been putting the words away crumbled as he crumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song inserted is Asriel’s Lament (His Theme) from the Undertale OST sang by Caleb Hyles ([listen here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E4V72s-VtRU)), and it makes me cry every time I hear it. Like Burr, the song came to my mind as I was writing this chapter, resurfacing after years of supposed forgetfulness. Of course I took creative license on it such as selecting only suitable stanzas and changing the word “loved” to “love”. I still can’t believe how well it fits to this story ahhh.  
> Comments will be appreciated. Thank you all for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Burr felt mortified the moment the three words escaped his Hamilton-kissed lips.

He blushed hot and red and every nerve in his body scrambled to find a rock to hide under and a door to run out. Hamilton was blinking furiously, struggling to swim above his fevered bog and Burr took the opportunity to snatch his hand back from where Hamilton held it on his lap.

Burr was almost out of the bed when Hamilton snapped awake and stopped him—by _sitting on his lap_. Burr was trapped under weight of the boy he admired and feared, and he raised his arm to cover his horrified face and hoped he could shrink right out of existence.

“Burr—” Hamilton was panting. “I love you.”

“ _Stop_.” _Stop pitying me. Stop forcing me to face my fears._

“Burr, please—I love you.”

“ _Don’t_.” _Don’t say things you don’t mean. Don’t make this harder than it already is._

And Burr was crying, crying, his arm over his eyes, his other arm barricading the boy on his lap from entering deeper into his insecure bubble.

“Burr—” And this time Hamilton’s voice sounded heartbroken. “Burr, I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for so long. I’ve had so many dreams—” Hamilton sobbed, and a jolt of cold water washed through Burr, and he let down his arm to look at the boy because Hamilton crying was more important than him crying.

Unlike him, Hamilton was letting the tears run down freely, unabashed, every emotion blatant and bare right there in his eyes. “Burr—” he said, stopped, sobbed. “ _Aaron_ , I love you. I love you. I love you, Aaron.”

And Burr couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t blink or look away.

Hamilton placed a hand on the arm over his face and gently pulled it down. On the mattress, Hamilton took his hand and again entwined their fingers together. He squeezed it, bringing feeling into Burr’s numb soul.

“You said you love me?” Hamilton said, eyes a fierce forest fire.

Their hands were entangled and Burr’s arm was still a barricade between their chests and Burr was still the same unaccomplished, unrecognised, unsure person that he was and always would be—but Hamilton was on his lap. Hamilton’s eyes were the living universe. Hamilton had said _I love you, Aaron_ , over and over and over.

So Burr let the tears fall freely from his eyes as the arm between them slackened. “I do—Alexander. I love you.”

Hamilton leaned in and kissed him, and Burr kissed him back. His body was flush against Burr’s. His hand was on Burr’s chest, beating, thudding, pounding with life and hope like a heart transplant.

And Hamilton was _moaning_. Moaning his name. _Aaron_ , _Aaron_ , _Aaron_ , over and over and over, making Burr lose all sense of thought, all sense of _sense_. Hamilton let go of his hand. Burr had a fleeting moment of sadness before his body jolted in shockwaves. Hamilton had inched his hand under Burr’s shirt and was running his fingers up and down, up and down.

“ _Alexander_ ,” Burr muttered hoarsely, throwing his head back.

Hamilton had both his hands under Burr’s shirt now, and when he touched Burr’s chest, it wasn’t a heart transplant but a defibrillator, sending lightning zapping through Burr’s very nerves. He was kissing Burr’s neck, jaw, ears. Licked the trails of tears from his chin to his eyes, then went back and placed more kisses.

“You’re amazing, Aaron,” Hamilton murmured over Burr’s skin. “You’re brilliant and enchanting and _amazing_. I am so in love with you.”

Burr clutched the boy for dear life, burying himself alive. He inched his own hands under Hamilton’s shirt, and pure delight rocked through him as the boy shivered with pleasure on his lap.

_On his lap_. Dear heaven above. Alexander Hamilton was _on his lap_. Alexander Hamilton was pushing him into pillows and kissing him— _with tongue_. Alexander Hamilton’s feverish hands were hot and eager on his skin, digging in with desperation and pulling at his belt.

_Struggling_ at his belt.

The genius prodigy was having trouble removing Burr’s pants.

Burr could have laughed, if it weren’t for a sound he had caught from Hamilton’s attempts.

A jiggling of keys.

_Laurens’s keys_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (In Lumpy Space Princess voice) Drama bombbbbb.  
> Thank you for the comments and kudos ahhh and thanks for reading! <3


	5. Chapter 5

All at once Burr remembered where they were, who they were, _whose_ they were.

_Laurens’s Hamilton_.

Burr pushed Hamilton hard and the boy, caught off guard, stumbled back off his lap onto the mattress, wide-eyed and baffled.

Burr was out of the bed and on his feet, searching his pocket for his phone to check the time.

11:37 PM.

_Thank the saints_ , he thought in relief. Then, _curse them all_. _Curse everyone. Curse me the most._ His hair was dishevelled, his lips swollen, his skin fiery with Hamilton’s fevered touch. _What the heck am I doing?!_

Burr spun around to face the boy, both of them visibly hurt. “Laurens will be back soon,” Burr almost spat, hating himself, hating Hamilton. “You should go to sleep.”

Hamilton’s eyes erupted. “Is that why you’ve been running away from me? All this time—because of John?”

“ _No_ ,” Burr hissed, because that wasn’t all. Laurens wasn’t the only reason Burr’s been anxious and angry and afraid. It was _himself_. Burr was the problem. Burr was the thorn in his own paw.

Hamilton was getting out of bed, and Burr felt it—that white cold fear—utter panic seizing him.

“You’re not mine,” Burr spluttered, making his defence before Hamilton could win him over. “I’m a horrible person. I lie and I cheat and I pretend to be better than what I am—but I’m not _good_. I’m all bark and no bite. I wish a lot and don’t do enough. You’re not mine—and you’re not like me.”

Hamilton was in front of him, his face pained, but Burr looked down at his phone.

11:44 PM.

Burr’s mouth was running again. Now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. The dam to all the truths in himself—all the things he thought of himself and Hamilton—was breaking beyond repair. “You aren’t like me. You are so far from me it _hurts_ , Alexander. You deserve the world and I’m lowlier than a speck of dust. You deserve better, you deserve everything—and I am less than nothing.”

Burr looked down.

11:46 PM.

Laurens could come through the door and free him at any minute. But why wait? For once, Burr’s nerves weren’t jittery anymore. His hands weren’t trembling, his foot wasn’t tapping. Speaking the truth had been the one to free him, and now that all the words he’d been harbouring but never acknowledging for years were finally seeing the light, he was standing in front of Hamilton a balanced and empty man.

11:51 PM.

“I’m leaving,” said Burr calmly.

Hamilton caught his sleeve as he passed him. “Have you said it all? Can I make my argument now?”

“Can I say no?” _Oh, wow, look how bold you’ve become, Burr, actually speaking the words out loud._

But Hamilton faced him fully, his eyes burning a different flame. “My argument is—” And Hamilton kissed him. Pushed at him until Burr’s legs knocked against the side of the bed, and Burr was so surprised he let him.

When Hamilton broke the kiss, Burr looked down and his phone was gone.

Hamilton was dialling.

“What are you doing?” Burr asked, dumbfounded.

“John,” Hamilton said, and he wasn’t speaking to Burr. “Stay over at Lafayette’s, will you?” A smirk flashed across his face at something Laurens said at the other end. It sounded high-pitched and excited. “Yeah, you and I both. _Okay_ , okay, I won’t. Yeah, I’m feeling much better. Thanks, bro.” He clicked the conversation off and handed the phone back to Burr, smiling and batting his eyelashes innocently. “Defence rests. Your verdict, Your Honour?”

Burr stared at his phone.

00:00 AM.

He didn’t dare to believe what had just happened. A hundred questions popped into his mind, but the one he said aloud was a tiny and hopeful, “Bro?”

Hamilton pushed him down onto the sheets. His fever made everything hotter, everything more reckless. He climbed on top of him and kissed him and bit on his lower lip and Burr could swear he was passing out himself.

“You are an idiot, Aaron Burr,” Hamilton declared, to which Burr presented no objection.

Hamilton fit against Burr’s body like he was tailored to from birth. _And_ —Burr realised like a revelation from God—that meant that _he_ was tailored to fit _Hamilton’s_ body too.

“I’m in love with an idiot,” Hamilton mumbled into his hair between kisses, and Burr couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re too good for me, Alexander.” A sliver of that doubt again, but Burr was still smiling.

Hamilton buried his head in Burr’s neck and shook it like a child refusing to go to sleep. “You are filled to the brim with kindness and intelligence, Aaron. I love that. I love you. If you are lowlier than a speck of dust and I deserve the world—then logic dictates that I deserve an infinite amount of you, Aaron.”

Burr felt himself awash with a new feeling. A feeling like gratitude and love and belonging, but harder to describe, harder to place. More complex and vast and fulfilling and _enough_.

Here in Hamilton’s arms, Burr finally felt like he was _enough_.

“Alexander?”

Hamilton pushed himself up to look down at him, cheeks flushed and eyes beautiful. “Yes, Aaron?” _Sweet angels on high_. His voice was soft, so soft, saying his name _softly_. Burr’s life was complete.

“Are you tired?”

Burr tried to keep his tone levelled, but Hamilton saw everything, heard everything. His ears reddened and his eyes shone and his lips parted invitingly. “I’m not.”

“Neither am I,” Burr said, and he couldn’t keep his voice neutral anymore. They were both past neutrality the moment Hamilton came into his life—a genius, a self-endangering saint—and Burr came into Hamilton’s—a philosopher, a self-deprecating sinner.

Hamilton had his hands under Burr’s shirt again, and Burr’s fingers were in the boy’s hair, on the boy’s waist, pulling him in, pushing himself onto him as he pushed back with equal and greater force. Burr never felt more pleased to be below and weaker than someone.

For Burr was dust and Hamilton was the world, and that was totally, invigoratingly, amazingly okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER GOT TOO REAL FOR ME BECAUSE I AM BURR AND BURR IS ME.  
> You ever feel an indescribably strong connection to someone who died hundreds of years ago? You ever suddenly think that reincarnation might be plausible?  
> Oof. In other semi-related news, I just found out that Hamilton (may have) died on my birthday. Different time zones—so I can’t be sure, but I am shooketh.  
> Anyway, thanks for reading! The next one’s the final chapter, and it’s kinda steamy, hope you’re ready HAHA.


	6. Chapter 6

Burr’s shirt was off, Hamilton’s shirt was off, and they were both kissing and touching each other like their lives depended on it.

Hamilton was _electric_. If this was how he was when he was feverish and groggy, Burr couldn’t imagine how he would be when he was healthy and devious.

And the _moaning_. Merciful patrons and priests. Burr was going out of his mind with lust.

“ _Aaron_ ,” Hamilton moaned, sucking his neck. “ _Aaron_ ,” he moaned, licking his nipple, sending a wave of hot pleasure right down to his toes. And Hamilton’s breaths were hot, and his body was hot, and _Hamilton_ was _hot_.

And Burr was growling back, pressing his fingers into the boy’s back, his waist, his hips. He arched his spine to push closer to Hamilton, heels digging into the mattress for traction, though he already had him pinned down.

In the muddle of their desperate grinding, Burr realised Hamilton was struggling with his belt again.

“ _Aaron_ ,” Hamilton whined, sitting up to straddle Burr, furiously trying to figure out the belt’s mechanics. He looked like he was about to cry.

Burr burst out laughing.

“ _Aaron_ ,” Hamilton sobbed. “Get this damn thing off.”

With deliberate slowness, Burr pushed himself up, Hamilton on his lap, their hardness straining against each other. Burr put a hand over Hamilton’s on his belt buckle, and his mouth to Hamilton’s ear, and time, space and the universe itself stayed still.

Hamilton kept his eyes down on the belt, heart pounding, blushing.

Burr moved his lips a feather distance on Hamilton’s ear, watching as the boy blushed deeper. He squeezed Hamilton’s hand. “Are you sure about this, Alexander?” he asked in a whisper. He needed to be certain.

Hamilton nodded without hesitation, still looking down as Burr played with his ear with his mouth. “I love you, Aaron. I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. _I want you_.”

Burr was panting. Hamilton was making him feel _everything_. He moved their hands on his buckle. “You have to push it first,” Burr murmured into Hamilton’s ear, blood rushing in his veins. He could hear his heart, he could hear Hamilton’s heart, as he pushed then pulled the buckle off like a finger trap.

Burr slid his belt off and dropped it to the floor. Hamilton kept still. A beat passed, and Burr was sliding off Hamilton’s belt too.

Burr could feel their heat cauterising the air. Hamilton was smouldering. Burr chewed on his ear and let himself become harder over Hamilton’s soft moans of pleasure and want. Hamilton’s hand was slack, overwhelmed, so Burr took it and guided it inside his trousers, guided it up and down, slowly up and down, driving himself mad with electric pleasure at the contact of Hamilton’s fingers around his throbbing shaft, until the boy took over.

After that, Burr was gone.

His trousers were off, Hamilton’s trousers were off, and they were rubbing against each other into ecstasy.

Burr came first—white, hot and gratifying. Then when the wetness lubricated the rubbing further, Hamilton came too, spasming beautifully over Burr.

Burr couldn’t stop kissing him. His heart was so full. His feelings for him reaching a new high. And Hamilton wouldn’t stop confessing, either. _I love you, Aaron. You’re amazing. I’m in love with your brilliance, your gentleness. I am so in love with you._

Burr didn’t want him to stop. They kissed, and it was less frantic, more subdued, but it gave ten times the consolation and joy that Burr had been missing all his life.

They kissed, and in Hamilton’s embrace, Burr felt whole, alive, enough and loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments and kudos!  
> This was my first fic posted online, and I'm truly grateful for the support.  
> More to come soon. <3


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